


Divided

by TheAnnoyingAlien



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Arguing, Communication, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Healthy Relationships, Kissing, M/M, Men Crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-08-01 08:10:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16280834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAnnoyingAlien/pseuds/TheAnnoyingAlien
Summary: It’s been a week since Election Day, and the disastrous outcome has President Obama quarreling more and more with his Vice President. Obama is overcome with despair but trying to put on a hopeful front for others’ sake, while Biden is mad as hell and lashing out at everyone and everything. Decisions need to be made and conversations need to be had before things between them and things in the country grow even more contentious.





	Divided

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hey it’s been a long ass time since I last wrote anything. Don’t know if anyone missed me or whatever crazy shit I manage to write but if you did sorry about that. I’ve been busy and not feeling all that great or in much of a mood to write goofy shit. I’m doing a lot better now though, feeling pretty okay despite all the crazy shit happening in the world and finding some motivation again. I don't usually write anything depressing, I mostly just write goofy ass crack fics, but I thought I’d try my hand at writing depressing crack for once instead of goofy crack. I also thought it’d be interesting to try and write two people trying to understand their different reactions to the same problem. I definitely find the ridiculously goofy crack more fun to write but I still thought I would give this a go just to try something different, and I thought I’d try my hand at writing something about Obama and Biden since I’ve never written about them before. I also feel that I should say that this fic wasn’t meant to portray either of them in a bad light or to be insulting towards either of them in any way. Neither of them are meant to be the “bad guy” in this, it’s just meant to show them both feeling upset, expressing it in different ways, and trying to sort things out together. I just wanted to clear that up because with Joe at least I feel that the way I wrote him makes him kind of look like a dick and I’ve seen a lot of people getting pissed at him for various reasons since the election ended but I personally don’t have anything against him and I didn’t want anybody to read this and think that I wrote it to hate on him. The only reason I wrote him the way I did was that the more aggressive stance in the story felt like it would fit him better than Obama since he comes off as way more impulsive/has a reputation for making impulsive comments, and I’ve exaggerated that for the sake of storytelling. I usually try to keep author’s notes pretty brief and I apologize for this one being so long, but I just felt like it was important to clarify things, I didn’t want anybody to get the wrong idea. Anyways, that’s all I have to say, let me know what you think of this sad garbage I wrote.

It was late evening, about a week since Election Day, and President Obama stood alone in his bedroom, wistfully gazing out of the window.

The past week had taken a large emotional toll upon the president, but while he was feeling drained and distressed he still managed to put on a facade of calmness and cheerfulness. Obama was well aware of the turmoil the country was in, the uncertainty and fear its citizens were feeling in the aftermath of the vote, and he figured he should try to bear an appearance of confidence and serenity in order to help soothe the public’s worries. He was hurting, hurting just like the rest of America was, but he resolved not to show it. He was the president; he had to be a symbol of strength and resilience even when he himself was breaking down.

Obama had had the displeasure of meeting the president-elect earlier in the week for the customary tour of the White House, a tour that was painfully uncomfortable for him. He had been looking forward to spending that time with Hillary, showing her around, laughing and joking with her and looking brightly towards the future. Instead he had found himself meandering through the halls with Trump, trying his best to remain cordial in spite of his obvious disdain towards the man. Obama grimaced at the memory of that excruciating encounter and sighed, drawing the curtains shut. There was no time now to dwell upon that; he had urgent business to attend to. He made his way to the bedroom door, grasping the handle. Inhaling sharply, he turned it and drew the door open. Joe Biden stood before him, one hand raised with his fingers curled in as if he were preparing to knock at the door. Upon seeing his president the vice president lowered his hand and leaned against the doorframe in what could only be described as an attempt at a seductive pose.

"Hello, handsome,” He greeted Obama, “You wanted to see me?” Obama gave a curt nod.

"Come on in," He requested, "And close the door behind you." Obama stepped aside to let him in while Biden cracked a knowing grin and quietly shut and locked the door. He sidled up to his president and took hold of his hands, leaning in to plant a soft kiss upon his neck.

"Come on, honey," Joe purred against his ear, "Let's go to bed."

"Hold on," Obama stopped him, "I want to talk a little first." Joe raised an eyebrow, confused.

"Talk about what?” He inquired.

"About a few things."

"What kinds of things?"

"Important things." Obama sat down on the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to him, indicating that he wished for Joe to join him. Joe did, plopping himself down at the president's side. Obama sat there in silence, facing forward with his hands clasped in his lap. This stretched on for what felt like an eternity to Joe, and he began to grow impatient and antsy.

"Hey, Barack?" He finally asked, "You're not mad at me, are you?" Obama didn't give him a verbal response, but he did shake his head and turn to face Joe, which was more than enough to ease the vice president’s worries.

"I heard that you were talking with Senator Kaine today at the capitol," The president said rather casually, changing the subject, "How's he doing?"

"Surprisingly well in spite of everything that’s happened this week," Joe grumbled, shifting into a dour mood, "So I'm talking with him during a recess right, and I ask him if he would consider running with me in 2020 but he isn't interested, says he just wants to stay in the senate. And you know what else he says? The guy has the nerve to suggest that I would be too old to run by that time!"

"Well, Joe, 2020 is a long ways away-"

"'But Mister Vice President, you'll be at the tail end of your seventies by then,'" Joe scoffed in a mocking impression of the senator's voice, "'Don't you think that's a little too old?' Too old my ass! I could still run!”

"I mean, that is a little old-"

"So then I'm like 'Oh, I'll be too old? Well what about Hillary? Won't she be too old as well? Or do you think it’s all fine and dandy for her to run next election? You want her to run one more time, don't you? Why don't you see if she'll put you on the ticket again? I’m sure she will if you keep sucking up to her,’" Joe continued, "And he's like 'Sir I wasn't trying to imply that' and I'm like 'Yes you were! Stop kissing her ass! It’s of no use to you at this point! 2016 is over with but you're still so hung up on it and on her!”

“Oh, Joe, you shouldn’t be-“

“Look at you still fawning over her, still kissing the ground she walks on! You’re like her little lapdog, always at her beck and call! It’s pathetic, Tim! She couldn’t stop Trump and now we’re all fucked! She failed us! If you keep tagging along with her then people are going to see you as a failure too! You lost the vice presidency, do you want to lose your seat in the senate as well? You’ll just become more and more unpopular the longer you associate with her, more and more people will vote against you, and you’ll be out of a job, all because you remained under her thumb! Hell, you're not even her running mate anymore, so grow a pair and drop her ass! A few of the other senators already have, you’d be smart to do the same!'”

“I don’t think that’s-“

“Anyways, that must have really pissed Tim off because then he kinda just frowns at me and takes a harmonica out of his pocket and starts polishing it with his blazer as he gives me this glare and says ‘Mister Vice President, I respect you a lot, I’ve been trying not to mouth off at you, and I don’t like to swear, but you’re being an asshole, you’re being unfair, and you really, really need to cut it the heck out.’ and at this point I had had enough so I told him to take his harmonica and shove it up his-"

"JOE!" Obama shouted, and Joe instantly clammed up. Obama let out a tired sigh and massaged his temples with his fingertips, trying to ward off the headache that he felt coming on. "Good God, Joe! I can’t believe you’ve really been speaking in the senate like that! I’ve had quite a few of the Democratic senators come to me this week complaining about the way you’ve been talking to them, swearing at them, putting them and Hillary down, getting mad at them for bringing up issues with you potentially running next election-it’s extremely unprofessional behavior! I never expected this from you, Joe, and I’m disappointed.”

"I don't care," Joe grunted, "I'm mad as hell about this election, I'm going to make it known, and I don’t give a damn what you or any of those dipshits in the senate think about it!"

"You’ve accused so many others of being obsessed with the election, but you seem like you're the one who's obsessed," Obama surmised, "This is what I wanted to talk to you about, Joe. This obsession isn't healthy, and I'm really worried about how it's affecting you. It’s turned you into someone you’re not and turned you against your friends and colleagues."

"Well, you can call it unhealthy all you want, but at least I actually care about what's happened unlike you!" Joe snapped. "You, Barack... you don't care one bit! You say I'm obsessed with the election, but you're not even paying it any mind at all! You've been going about your business as usual like nothing has changed, being your typical cool, calm, collected self, smiling and waving to everyone, talking about how it's all gonna be okay, how we're all gonna be fine. It's not okay and we're not gonna be fine, and you don't fucking care! How can you act like everything is normal when it’ll never be normal ever again?"

"Joe, I do care!" Obama professed. "You of all people should know that I care! We both care about what's unfolding here, but you and I have completely different attitudes towards the situation and completely different ways of expressing those attitudes. Look, I know things are bad, but I'm trying to remain calm and to keep the country calm, because getting worked up isn't going to help anyone. I'm the president, Joe, I have to be a rock for the country, I have to be strong for the American people even when I myself am crumbling, I have to be somebody they can look to for hope. I might seem like my usual self on the outside, but inside I'm a wreck! I'm sad that I saw a friend of mine defeated, I’m scared of what will happen to this country and the people in it when I leave office, and there’s nothing I can do except try to keep up appearances for the rest of my time in the White House!"

"Hmph, whatever... I don’t want to argue anymore, we can finish with this another time," Joe muttered, "Come on, Barack. Just lay back with me and let’s forget about it for now." He leaned in to kiss Obama, but the president turned away from him.

"No, Joe, not tonight," He declined, "I think you should sleep in your own bed tonight." Joe frowned, but he pulled away, understanding that his lover did not wish to go further.

“Alright then,” He sighed, “I get it. I’ve pissed you off and now you want to be alone, that’s fine. We’ll spend tonight by ourselves.” He got up from the bed and started off towards the door as Obama watched him, crossing his arms over his chest.

“We’ll be spending more than just tonight by ourselves,” He replied sternly, making the vice president pause, “This isn’t something that can be resolved with just one night apart, Joe.” A sense of dread washed over Joe as he took in the gravity of this statement. He whipped around to meet his lover’s gaze again, a panicked look on his face, quite different from the withdrawn expression Obama now wore.

"Is... are we..." Joe stammered, gesturing between himself and the president, “Is it over? Are you ending things between us? Are you gonna dump me?"

"No.” Joe let out a sigh of relief upon hearing this. He was about to say something, but Obama held a finger up to keep him silent. “I’m not dumping you, Joe,” He continued, “But I do want to take a break. I think we both need a break from each other." Joe's heart sank, and he immediately regretted everything he had said that evening. Never before in the eight years they had been together had his lover requested any kind of break in their arrangement. It was bad that things had gotten to this point.

"How long would this break be?" He asked.

"Long enough so that we can both calm down and work on ourselves," Said Obama, "We've been arguing a lot lately, we’re both going through some things, and I think it'd be good for both of us to step back and be on our own for a while. The election is still so fresh and raw in our minds, and the two of us are so caught up in our differing feelings towards it, we're only going to keep butting heads with each other."

"Barack, please don’t do this! I didn't mean any of that shit I said!" Joe insisted, "I really didn't! You know I respect all the Democrats who work for us, you know that I like Hillary and that I’m proud of the campaign she ran, she and I are good friends, I... I was just being bitter! I’ve been so upset about everything that’s happened and I’ve just been wanting somebody or something to be angry at! I didn’t mean any of it at all; I just let my emotions get the better of me!"

"You may not have meant it but you still said it," Obama pointed out, "And on top of that one of the people you said it to was her own running mate! They’re not campaigning anymore but Tim’s still close to her; did you ever consider that he might tell her what you said? Even if he doesn’t say anything I’m sure she’ll hear about your comments in the news at some point. You’ve never been subtle about things and the media always has an ear out for controversy and drama." Joe hung his head shamefully.

“She’ll know that I didn’t mean it,” He mumbled, “Hell, I’m not the only friend or colleague of hers who’s said stuff like that, other Democrats have done it too, and she knows none of us mean it, she knows that that’s just how it is with politics and knows not to take it personally and we’re all still friends in the end. And Tim and the other senators know that I think they’re great and that I think she’s great…”

“Well, they might know it, but they’ll definitely think you’ve done a poor job of showing it,” Obama pointed out, “I know that in politics we sometimes end up saying scathing things about our friends, it happens and we understand that it’s just part of the job, but what you’ve been doing has nothing to do with how you view anyone’s politics. You’re hurt and upset and taking it out on everyone around you, and it isn’t okay. They all have every right to be mad at you because of the way you’ve been speaking to and about them.” Joe looked up to meet his eyes again, looking as remorseful as ever.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked quietly.

“I’m disappointed, but I’m not mad.”

“Do you still love me?”

"Joe, you know the answer to that,” Obama chided him gently, “I might not like the way you’ve been behaving this past week, but the love I feel for you hasn’t changed one bit and it never will. I just need some space to relax and gather my thoughts; there’s so much going on and it’s really taking a toll on me. I’m sorry, I know you’re hurting too and I want to be there for you and to help you, but I really need a break for my own sake...”

“No, no, you don’t have to apologize,” Joe assured him, taking hold of his hands, “I understand. I should be the one saying sorry, I’m sorry I’ve been such an ass lately, to you and to everyone else. I’ve been acting on impulse and assuming so many things about so many people, even you. I thought you were being cold and careless, but you weren’t, you were hurting a lot, and I’m so sorry for not noticing. After eight years of being at your side I should be able to tell when something’s bothering you so I can help you get through it.”

“In a way it’s good that you didn’t notice; if I was able to keep it hidden from my own lover then that means the rest of the country won’t pick up on it either,” Obama chuckled weakly, cracking a smile to mask the sadness he felt, “But I don’t know how much longer I can keep this going. It’s torture keeping all of this under wraps, I’ve never felt so sad, so angry, so upset for my friend, so betrayed by my country. I just want to keep everybody calm, I want to do what I can to keep giving people hope before I leave office, but it’s so, so hard to keep this hidden.” The president was crying now, tears rolling down his cheeks, though he still wore a smile, still trying to convince the world of a sereneness that he was far from feeling. The sight broke Joe’s heart, and he grew teary himself, anguished to learn of the extent of his lover’s despair. He’d been so centered on his own hurt and anger that he hadn’t considered how those around him were hurting, not even his beloved.

“Oh, Barack, darling,” He said softly, cupping Obama’s cheeks in his hands and wiping the tears away with his thumbs, “Please don’t do this. I don’t want you to have to keep things bottled up inside, you shouldn’t have to torment yourself like that just to keep the country at ease. It’s wrong to lash out at others like I’ve been doing, but it isn’t good to just keep all the hurt to yourself either. The American people have seen you wear your heart on your sleeve before, they know that you care, that you empathize with them, and they’ve empathized with you in the past. They’ll definitely do it again now, they’ll understand, they’ll be even more motivated to do good and fight for change when they see that even their president is moved to tears by all the bullshit going on in the country!”

“I really don’t want the public knowing about this; I’m convinced that it’d be demoralizing rather than motivating,” Obama insisted, “I’m going to find a way to deal with what I’m feeling, but I want to deal with it alone, by myself, in private. It doesn’t mean that I don’t love or trust you, Joe, I just feel like this is something I can’t work through with the help of anyone else, not even those closest to me. It’s something I need to take care of on my own.”

“I understand,” Joe told him, “If you need some space, Barack, then I’ll gladly give it to you. I don’t like being away from you, but you’re right, we could both use some time apart to work through everything alone.” It pained him to know that things had gotten so rocky between them that it had come to this, but he loved Barack deeply, cherished their relationship, and as much as he wanted to stay he knew it would be better for them to part ways for the time being. Once the raw pain of the election had dulled, once they had both come to terms with things on their own they could come back together and work through it as one. Barack drew his arms around Joe, pulling him into a snug embrace. Joe returned the hug, clinging to Barack even tighter than the president was clinging to him. Joe knew it would be the last time for a while that they would have this kind of close contact, and he wanted to make the most of every second.

“Thank you for understanding, Joe,” Barack said softly, leaning his head on the other man’s shoulder, “There was no easy way for us to talk about this, but I’m glad we did.”

“So am I,” Joe murmured, “I think we both said everything we needed to say, unless you’ve got anything more you want to add.”

“No, I’m fine. Give me a kiss?” Joe leaned in and pressed his lips to his president’s, still holding him tight. He kept the kiss innocent and brief, knowing that Obama wished to spend the evening by himself and not in the arms of his lover.

“I’ll leave you be now,” He announced as they parted, “I love you. Please take care of yourself.”

“I love you too, and I will. Take care of yourself too.”

“I will. Goodnight.”

With that, Joe rose from the bed and promptly exited the room. There was a lot on his mind, a lot he was unsure about, and letting go of Barack, even if it were only for a short while, was one of the hardest things he had ever had to do. He could only imagine how difficult it would be for the country to let him go in January.

The End


End file.
